Tangier

Woah Tangier. This entry port to Morocco hit us in the face on arrival and left us to begin our personal quest to separate fact from fiction. We had discovered from other travellers in Spain that after being received in Tangier tourists frequently either decide to cut short their trip in Morocco or elect to stick to the well beaten paths before making a stress relieving exit. For us, Tangier showed in only two days the extremes of the Moroccan experience and proved the importance of dealing with the bad in order to be able to continue pursuing the good.

We arrived in Tangier via fast ferry from Tarifa, Spain armed with our tourist book, a few words of Arabic and a lot of excitement. After being charged four times the price of a taxi that we were able to haggle down to double the usual price, we departed the port. We found a reasonable hotel in the medina – the old walled neighborhoods found in most Moroccan cities – and found many assisting voices to guide us on our way. In Moroccan cities, everyone wants to be your friend, help you find something and oh by the way, to sell you anything you may or may not be looking for. Dealing with this constant barrage takes a lot of patience and a very firm determination.

We spent our first afternoon exploring the medina, having a nice Tagine (Moroccan stew served in clay pot) lunch and a mint tea. Tea here is a big deal and in the cafés it’s usually reserved for the men who all sit grandstand style watching the passers by. Women here are culturally expected to be much more reserved and are not welcome at certain establishments; however tourists are given more liberal permissions. For Patricia it is a constant question of trying to find the line between not offending local customs and intruding on one’s own personal freedoms. She waged a hilarious and frustrating battle with her improvised head scarves before eventually learning that wearing the scarf makes little difference; it’s how you interact with the locals that matters. Friendliness and respect with proper greetings go a long way, and we were soon learning some basic Arabic words to help us get by.

The beginning of our time in Tangier was promising. We had a great time exploring the paths and alleys of the medina and thoroughly enjoyed touring the Kasbah museum and gardens. We had a couple of nice dinners out and Ben also watched a soccer game with the local men in the tea shop. And finally, we also met a very kind shopkeeper who recommended that we go immediately to the Tourist Police to explain the story of Abdul, the friendly tour guide we had the misfortune of meeting while exploring the old medina.

We will never forget Abdul, for he taught us a very important lesson. Canadians as a whole are a very open and trusting people, tending to look for the good in each situation and very concerned not to affront local beliefs – at least the Canadians we have met. Abdul used this to play us like a fiddle. The day started off well. We went to visit the local Kasbah, where the medina rulers lived in older times, and then set out for a stroll. This friendly looking middle aged man dressed in a local djelaba (long garment with a hood worn by many Moroccan men and women alike) approached us as we seemed to be a bit lost. He said he was on his lunch break from the tourist office and asked if we had seen such and such sight or knew of the history of various things. We knew that we would end up paying for an impromptu tour but decided to go with it. It was all about good information and helpful tips until he heard we were worried about local customs in the small villages we were about to visit. “No problem my friend! I will buy you a djelaba coat and everyone will treat you with respect!” But even better, if we give the money directly to Abdul he will get us the local price for our new garment and bring it back to us. We waited outside the store while he went in to “bargain”. One thing led to another and in the end we discovered from the shopkeeper where the garments were purchased that the djelabas he bought us (both of which ended up being for tall men) were worth $55 Dirham each and we had given him $700! Needless to say, we were angry and embarrassed, but after a short pause, we decided to turn the tale in our favour…

After confirming the extent of our pants dropping, the friendly shopkeeper encouraged us to go to the Tourist Police to rustle up the fellow and get our cash back. He was rightfully angry that he had lost the opportunity to do some honest business with us. “Let’s do this!”, we thought. After giving our story to the local authorities, we were invited to jump into the squadcar and began our pursuit of the criminal…at high speed! With the lights and siren flashing! Through the narrow streets of Tangier on the wrong side of the road! We looked at each other in the back seat of the Moroccan police car and could hardly repress our grins. Little did Abdul know that he had given us an experience worth more than all of the money he took from us that day. Ben’s dad summed up the story by relating a Moroccan proverb: “Trust in Allah, but tie up your camels”.

The following picture taken out of our hotel window is a favorite of Ben`s; see if you can spot the star crossed lovers.